Bess and the Highwayman
by Charshee
Summary: Inspired by the poem "The Highwayman" by Alfred Noyes, this is my interpretation of the love and eventual tragedy between Bess and her beloved thief.
1. A Thief

Bess sighed to herself, leaning her forehead against the glass of the carriage window. The other passengers were returning from town also, having purchased their necessities and flogged their wares. Bess was quite worn out by the towns busy market place, and by the idol gossip insisted upon by the wives of the many shop keepers. They insisted on speaking to Bess, telling her of all the fine, single gentlemen staying in town. At sixteen, it was customary for Bess to find a husband, and be settled down with a baby by her eighteenth.

She had yet to find a man who struck her fancy, however, and she laughed off the judgments and opinions of the kind older women in the town. She was happy to serve at the Inn, for the time being. Taking care of her father, no longer in his prime, took precedence over finding herself a new man to look after. Though she could not deny she enjoyed the innocent flirtations with the more handsome young men she met. Whether they were patrons of the Inn, or merely passing through town. Perhaps she was lucky to have not found them worthy of wedding, for each in turn would break the heart and spirit of the beautiful young women they eventually did make a wife.

So Bess found herself in the carriage back to the Inn, a few miles East of town. It made stops along the road where people waited, and a few of the regular Inn customers got on. She smiled and nodded at them, knowing she'd be serving them ale in abundance later that evening. The carriage moved at a steady speed, pulled by a pair of old and reliable carthorses. They were about three miles from the Inn when the passengers heard the driver yell from up front,

"A highwayman! A highwayman! We cannot out run him!"

Sure enough, through the window Bess could see the man on the back of a chestnut stallion, which had a look of madness in it's eyes. The beast was moving at a pace that the old carthorses had never been capable of, even in their younger days. It took perhaps a minute for it to tear down the lane behind them, and pull up alongside the driver.

"Pull over, sir." A brisk voice could be heard, shouting over the rumble of hooves. The driver did not attempt to outrun the man, and Bess felt a shiver of fear as the carriage was slowed to a stop. The poor, concerned passengers strained for the sound of a pistol shot, meaning the death of their driver and friend, but none came. They sat in a fretful silence for a while, until the door of the carriage was opened, and a man in a mask peered in.

"If you would all be so kind as to exit the carriage, and line up along it's side please? Do bring your belongings. Thank you."

They did as they were told, despite the man's polite tone, they knew he had to be a threat. They found that the driver had been tied up beside the carriage, sat on the dusty road. The highwayman had gagged him with a strip of cloth, but had not been unkind with the ropes. They were tied to restrain, not to harm.

"Now, ladies, gentlemen, please keep calm. I have no intention or cause to wish harm upon any of you, but if I must, I will. I wish only to collect a small amount from each of you. Think of it as a toll for taking this road. A single crown from each, if you please."

He swept his three cornered hat from his head in a flourish, revealing a head of well kept brown hair, that he had tied back in a short ponytail that only just touched the collar of his jacket. He smiled, and nodded in thanks as he went down the line, collecting the coins from the wary travelers. Bess had placed herself at the very end of the line, and avoided looking at the rouge, until he reached her, and she had no choice. She glanced up into his eyes in an accusatory fashion, that quickly softened to something more tender.

His eyes were a pure blue of the morning sky, dotted with the odd cloud, the two mixed together to create a storm of greys and blues that she felt she was getting spun together with them. There was a sparkle of honest amusement in those eyes, a rough, unbridled passion that lead her to believe that this practice of robbing was nothing but a sport to him. The emotions changed when his eyes met hers, the passion was suddenly directed in a drastically different direction. His charming, playful smile faltered, and the two became locked into a moment that, though truly lasted only a second or two, seemed to span on through lifetimes.

Finally, Bess stirred herself, and held out her hand containing her crown. The thief moved his hat, however, and spoke in a hushed tone,

"I could not bring myself to take from a young woman such as yourself. Your beauty, and the chance to gaze upon it, are worth much more than any amount of riches I can steal."

Bess felt a heat in her cheeks, and knew that a blush had risen in her snowy skin. She saw herself as foolish, charmed by the criminals words and manners. It was incomprehensible, that she should ever be flattered by any of the lies spoken by such a man. But she appreciated the dazzling confidence in which he held himself, and the way his red velvet coat fitted his shoulders in such a flattering manner. She couldn't help but be charmed, she told herself, he's a handsome young man, criminal or not.

Meanwhile, the highwayman had appreciated the colour as it filled Bess's pale complexion, and scooped his collection of coins from the hat and into the coin purse that hung at his belt, beside the holster that contained his rapier. He surveyed the sombre faces of his victims, decided he was satisfied with his humble loot, and informed them they could re-board their carriage, and that their driver would be back in his seat in a moment.

He caught Bess's arm before she could follow the others, and asked in a whisper,

"What's your name, fair lady?"

"That, sir," Bess said, straightening her back and lifting her chin proudly, "is none of your concern, I don't consort with common criminals."

"A shame, my lady, because a beauty as valuable as thine own could make any man a criminal. And any man is common in comparison." These he spoke with such a tenderness that Bess couldn't resist spluttering out,

"Bess. M-My name is Bess." Before turning absolutely crimson, and stumbling back into the coach.

"Bess." The highwayman repeated to himself, as if savoring some sweet taste the word left on his lips. It was with a smile that he untied the driver, who, in his old age, made no attempt to seek revenge against the young scoundrel.

* * *

Bess wiped the sheen of sweat from her brow, darting along to the next table, and refilling the mugs of ale. All of the passengers on the carriage had retreated back to the Inn for a healthy helping of warm bread and beer to calm their anxious nerves. Bess's father, the land lord, had been most concerned for all of those the highwayman stole from. For the past few weeks they'd been getting more and more customers with the same reports.

"A young man, polite, well spoken. Only takes what people can afford."

Bess had listened without much interest until that night, when her own encounter had caused her ears to prick up in interest at the slightest mention of the mysterious, masked bandit. Once again she heard a portly gentleman telling her father that the robber never failed to take. She interrupted his story with,

"He didn't take my coinage."

The man stared at her for a little while.

"Why not, did he say?" He asked,

"Yes, he said-" Bess blushed again at the thought, and decided to alter the truth just a little, "-he said he didn't want to take from a young lady who clearly isn't old enough to have husband to provide her income."

"Ah," laughed her father, gazing at Bess affectionately, "and I suppose a pretty smile didn't go amiss either? I ne'er did hear of an honest thief before. But he seems to have some morals to him. He'll be caught, soon enough, though. The town is crawling with troops, on the look out for this young man.

"Do they have no traces?" Bess asked, feeling some inexplicable pang of fear in her heart.

"Not one, he's careful to leave no mess. And not to stay in one place for too long. He seems to enjoy teasing the redcoats with his presence."

Bess nodded, and left the men to their talk and their ale. Slowly but surely the customers either left the Inn or retired upstairs to the rooms that they had been given by Bess.

Bess was wiping down the bar itself when the back door creaked open, and Tim made his entrance.

"There's a sick horse in the stables," he told her, noting that her father had already retired to bed. "Do you think you could find me a bottle of the older brandy? I need to calm the beast down before I can examine her."

Bess did as she was told, and gave Tim the best of her luck for the horse. Tim took it to his soul and placed it with the other sweet things that had ever crossed from her rosebud lips and entered his ear. He went back to the stables feeling rejuvenated and refreshed after drinking in Bess's fair features, when really the age of thirty seven slowly crept up behind him

Finally the bar was clean, and Bess retreated to her room. She sat in front of the mirror, and surveyed herself. Large green doe eyes surrounded by thick, black lashes were a most appealing feature in her face. Perhaps those were the beauty the highwayman claimed to see. Her next crowning glory was perhaps the thick black hair that flowed in waves down to her little waist. She was a fair, young girl. And as she thought back to the highwayman's own handsome, wild looks, somewhere out in the night, he thought of hers.


	2. A Savior

The familiar sound of the clunk of the old carts and the thumping of the large hooves on the dirt road that ran along the side of the Inn was a comforting sound that Bess had grown up listening to. She'd stop and listen to the passers by and the customers as they turned into the Inns court yard as she brushed down a few of the horses in the stables. That morning she was in the stable of her favourite mare, Clover, brushing her down. Usually one of the stable hands would, but she felt the need to do some sort of physical labor. She was tense, anxious, and confused.

The haunting image of the highwayman's eyes hadn't left her since they met five days previously. She had found herself desperately scanning the moors from her window, searching for some sign of him along the roads. But she saw nothing. Her father had forbidden her from taking the journey into town until the man was caught. She almost wished to be in a held up carriage once again.

Tim interrupted her train of thought, placing a pair of buckets on a shelf a few meters from her.

"Bess, you needn't do that. I'll have one of the boys brush her down."

"Oh, no, I want to. It clears my head." She said, giving him a sweet smile that tugged on his heartstrings. "And besides, I'm just about done anyway." She put the brushes back in their holder, and dusted off her skirt.

He looked as if he were about to speak, and Bess waited patiently as he stood slack jawed in front of her. He took two steps towards her, his rather vacant, sunken eyes seemed to gain some strange element that she couldn't quite place. But it stirred some discomfort inside her, and nerves began to creep into her mind, putting a black cloud over her sunny feeling of anticipation.

"Bess, I was wondering-"

"Tim, I really must get back to the bar," she interrupted, squirming a little at the shift in atmosphere. He nodded, and she brushed past him, towards the stable door. His arm suddenly darted out, and his hand grabbed her arm. She turned and widened her eyes at him, shocked. His fingers were curled round her thin arm far too tightly to be comfortable. She knew her lily white skin would end up bruised. He held her eye contact for a while, until he read the look of dread in her face. He let her arm drop. Bess turned, and ran from the stable.

Bess had been serving customers all afternoon, and was glad when her father told her to take a break. He'd been concerned, she hadn't seemed herself all day. But, when he'd asked what was wrong, she'd had nothing to tell him. Her easy coming smile hadn't quite held it's usual glow, however, and he happily said yes to her taking the rest of the day to herself.

Bess decided to go for a walk. She enjoyed the autumn colours of the trees, and the chill in the air was refreshing. She wrapped herself in her warmest wool cloak, and began a slow wander over the moors, every now and again plucking a leaf off a nearby hedge and shredding it between her nimble fingers. She dug her teeth into her bottom lip, thinking of that morning in the stables. She couldn't, for the life of her, fathom Tim's behavior. As she thought of it, her upper arm throbbed painfully.

The discomfort was momentary, however, as she'd found herself walking along the side of a little country lane. She loved the look of the trees arching over the road. She began to daydream, thinking of the dashing highwayman, and the delicate way he had held her name on his lips.

No, no. She was being a fool. He was a criminal, merely a thief. He'd probably stolen the fine clothes he adorned himself with. The look they'd shared had meant nothing. It was all in her head. She'd been charmed, as was his intention. Perhaps he'd wished to steal something more than money from her. She couldn't allow herself to linger on the image of his rugged, confident smirk.

But perhaps she was lingering, because she didn't hear the new, almost sparkling carriage pull up beside her.

"Hello, Miss." The voice shocked her out of her deep thoughts.

"Good-day." She said, halting in her tracks to turn and face the two men leering down at her from the seat.

"I was wondering, darlin', if you happened to know how far off the nearest household is." One said, his gaze really made Bess sick to her stomach. She wasn't sure why. There was something wrong in his eyes. Something empty and sick. But she had no reason to fear him.

"There's no estates or homes for a few miles, but there's an Inn about a mile and a half away, to the North from here."

"That's convenient, then." Smiled the man, his misshapen mouth twisting into a grin.

"Convenient, sir?" Bess asked, her blood running cold.

"You've got no where to run to." She stared at them for a second longer, before lifting her skirts up and sprinting down the lane.

They spurred the horses on, and the new wheels of the carriage were quick along the road. Bess knew she stood no chance, and she soon felt the hands of one of the men snatching at her cloak from up on the carriage. She screamed, shrill and loud, and kept running. She almost swore she heard a third horses hoof beats, harder and faster than the other two.

Her slim legs burned with the effort and speed of her running. Her lungs felt as if they were on fire. All of a sudden she heard the men begin to shout, her ears were ringing however, and she couldn't hear what they were yelling. She could only keep the the beat of her feet on the ground at a steady rhythm. It was sudden, there was a blast of sound that cut through her to her very core. She spun to look, but her running didn't stop. She found herself tumbling backwards and falling with a heavy thump into the ditch running down the side of the road. She cried out in pain, and felt her vision fading. She saw the carriage swerve, and fall onto it's side, and behind it, a chestnut stallion and a rider in blood red. Then it all went black.

"Here, Bess, have this." A canteen was held to her lips, and she drowsily sipped from it. It was water, clean and cool, and it woke her up a little more. She was cradled on someones lap, wrapped in something softer and warmer than her woolen cloak. Her eyes opened slowly, but the shock of what she saw was enough to bring back her vision immediately.

"You!" She cried, sitting up in his arms far too quickly. A sharp stab of pain caused her to sway, and collapse back into his embrace.

"Woah, carefully, please. You've had a fall, my lady. Do try to be still." She did as she was told almost automatically.

"The men, the carriage-" She asked, her voice weak.

"Ah, now. That's a delicate matter, my dear, and I don't wish to alarm you-"

"What happened? Are they nearby?" Bess felt her heart flutter in her chest.

"No. You don't need to be worrying yourself about them, ever again." his voice was dark, and she gasped.

"You don't mean... that was a pistol blast. You killed them." She propelled herself from him, pushing herself a meter away from him. Her gaze was one of shock, she was looking at an actually killer.

"One seems to have had his neck broken when the carriage fell." The highwayman said, calmly. "The other, yes, I shot."

"Oh. Oh goodness." Bess said, and scrambled to her feet, though unsteady, determined. She began to stumble away, back down the lane, trying not to look at the wreckage of the cart.

"Bess, please. My lady, come back. You aren't well enough!" He followed her, easily, at a pace no more than a leisurely walk, her stumble was so slow and zigzagged.

"You're a murderer!" She cried, turning to him.

"The harm they would have done to you makes their lives worth nothing." He said, his voice so dripping with some dark emotion that she realized exactly what he had done.

"You saved my life, didn't you?" The shock had begun to relinquish it's grasp on her. The cold grip that a person's first close encounter with death brings began to release her. She saw the face of her rescuer clearly, and found the concern, but steady strength in his unwavering eyes.

"Yes, I believe I did." It was not humble, nor a boast. He was merely stating a fact.

"Thank you, sir." Bess mumbled, finally accepting the support of the hand he held out to her. He wrapped her arm around his shoulders, and she leant on him heavily.

"I'll return you home, it's almost sunset, it's not safe for you to wander the moors at this time." He said, gently guiding her to where his stallion stood, patiently waiting. Bess looked at him with something close to horror.

"But, sir, you'll be seen!" He didn't slow his pace towards his steed.

"Ah, Bess, your concern is flattering. Why should the capture of a common criminal matter to you?" A smirk played around his lips, and she could feel a pure satisfaction at her worry emitting from his form. She blushed,

"You saved my life. I do not wish to be the cause for the end of yours."

"You needn't worry, my dear. I shan't be caught. I'll leave you a little ways from the Inn." He was helping her onto the massive creature, which stood still as it could, as if trying to do it's part in assisting her. He mounted also, and she, embarrassed at pressing herself against him, held on to the sides of the saddle. He laughed at her, and reached behind him, he pulled her arms around his waist and said,

"You'll need to hold on a little tighter than that, I fear that if you were to tumble from this height, you wouldn't be as lucky." As if permission was all she needed, she held him as tightly as she could in her state. He turned their mount to the North, and set off at a pace that stunned and liberated her spirit all at once.

Bess had come accustomed to the wind whipping her hair back, and the warm feel of the velvet coat against her cheek. So she was almost disappointed when he, all to quickly, slowed the horse to a stop. It was dusk now, and the world had a ghostly grey quality about it. She recognized the little path they stopped on as one leading directly to the Inn's back entrance.

"You know this place?" She asked, as her swung himself down, and prepared to assist her.

"I know it. It seems safer than the main gate." He gave no further explanation, and swung her off the horse, her hands on his shoulders, his on her hips. They remained like that, when she was safely back on the ground.

"You never told me your name, sir." Bess asked, wished he'd remove his silky black mask and reveal the full glory of, what she could tell, was a handsome face.

"My name is William." He said, and without second thought, kissed her.

Bess wasn't quite sure how to react, all she knew was that she didn't wish to pull away. She tilted her head upwards, and relieved his discomfort at having to bend down so far.

She knew it must be wrong, somewhere, deep within her, a tiny, insignificant voice told her that the man that claimed her lips was naught but a criminal, and she a whore for allowing his embrace. But that voice was soon crushed by the overwhelming feeling that this was right. Their bodies seemed bound together by some magic, they slotted together so perfectly. Bess deepened the kiss, parting her lips to him. It could have been years until they finally, breathlessly, parted. Truly their passionate display had snatched away only three minutes of their time, yet the sky was already darker.

"I have to go!" Bess said, panicking, thinking of the worry her father must be feeling.

"Bess, please, know that we shall meet again."

"How can I find you?" She asked, reaching out and clutching one of his hands between hers.

"I'll come to you." He pressed another sweet kiss to her lips, and remounted. She watched him depart with both a feeling of bliss and sorrow dancing within her.

Her father's anger was quashed by his relief that she was home safe. But when he saw the muddied state of the back of her dress, he was outraged. She explained what had happened, but rather than tell him the highwayman had come to her rescue, she said the carriage had wrecked all alone. He didn't have her work for him, that evening, and sent her straight to bed. Tim listened to her tale from some distance away, knowing that since his actions that morning, his was a face that Bess would not take kindly to.

She couldn't sleep, however. She bathed herself beside the fire that warmed her room, and changed into her nightgown, her thoughts never leaving the kiss. She rested her elbows on the windowsill, and leant out into the night, allowing her long hair to dry in the breeze. She scanned the moors, flooded with moonlight, but knew she would not see him.

"William," she sighed to herself, "My darling William."


	3. A Visitor

The leaves had all but departed their branches, the sky seemed forever strewn with clouds, and Bess found herself longing for the man who had set her heart alight, and since, been absent. For a fortnight, exactly. She had gone about her work in a melancholy manner, her thoughts rarely straying from him. And his promise that they would meet again. She had hoped he'd meant soon, but since their last encounter, she'd only heard of him through the tales of the people he'd stolen from. There seemed to have been quite a few more than his usual. One night, five patrons had claimed to have been robbed that very afternoon.

She feared for him, her affections covering any usual offense she would take at his criminal activities. She knew the redcoats were getting impatient with his antics, they had a few in there, three nights ago. They drank more than their fair share, and payed only for half. Her father couldn't do much, of course. They were kings men, above the law, because they enforced it. Bess heard them talking about her highwayman, talking of hanging him when they finally tracked him down. She felt her stomach drop at their words. She was struck with the heart stopping image of his lifeless body swaying from a rope, twisted around his perfect neck, which was bent at an unnatural angle.

She shook the disgusting image from her troubled mind. No, she would not break, and abandon him completely. She was of no use to him broken. So Bess kept up appearances, and kept up her work. Her father seemed to sense something, however, he'd often ask,

"Bessie, love, are you happy?" She'd smile with false confusion in her eyes, and say in reply,

"Yes, father, I am, quite happy." He'd remain concerned, however, and began to wonder if perhaps her little girl was no longer a child. Perhaps she had thoughts of marriage, and was unable to fulfill her desires, because her old papa held her back. She didn't show signs of leaving, however. She seemed to live for the care she gave him, and the old inn. Just like her mother before her, who had passed away giving birth to Bess. His heart ached when he realised loyal Bess would likely stay here at his side until his death, and by doing so, grow too old to marry, and be alone in the inn until her own end.

One night was very busy, and Bess practically ran from table to table, delivering ale and a warm meal to the wind chilled customers. Unusually, no one had reported any robberies that day, nor stretching back to the beginning of the week, three days prior. Bess was disturbed by the news, it could mean a multitude of things. He could have been caught, or had died of cold in a ditch somewhere. And, worst of all, some part of her whispered that perhaps he'd left the town, and by doing so, abandoned her and their love.

The thought was so slight, however, that it was crushed completely when she ran through the explosive kiss they had shared. And the tender way his eyes seemed to connect with hers, until there was no one in the world but the two of them. No, he had sworn they'd meet again, and that they would. Because as Bess lay a basket of warm bread-rolls on one of the tables, the Inn door clattered open, and a cool wind blasted through it, around the figure in the doorway.

A few candles were blown out, and someone yelped at the sudden noise. The man in the doorway was wrapped in a thick, yet tattered brown cloak. His hood was drawn up in such a way, his eyes and the bridge of his nose were covered with shadow. Stubble gave his chin and cheeks a scruffy, unkempt appearance, and he walked with a slight limp. He closed the door behind him, and suddenly seemed less otherworldly, most people went back to their food and drink, and Tom relit the candles as Bess went to show the stranger to a table.

He, however, pointed to one in a shadowy, cobwebby corner. She, forever the hostess, ignored his silence and kept up a friendly chatter as she weaved through the tables and sat him down. He grunted in reply, and when he sat, she offered to take his cloak. He shook his head, yet, pulled back his hood. It was all Bess could do to keep from gasping.

It was her beloved highwayman. His blue eyes danced when he looked at her, watching her reaction, yet some of the merriment in them had dulled and his cheeks were hallow. Dirt was smudged on his forehead, and his hair was messy and even had a twig or two tangled in it. He looked amazing.

"William!" She muttered, and he smiled a weary smile.

"I was afraid you wouldn't recognize me."

"How could I not? But, William, you shouldn't be here! You'll be seen!"

"Bess, only you could have picked me out from any of your usual travel worn customers. No one will know. Besides, I needed somewhere to stay. And I haven't eaten in a few days, it was too risky to buy anything from town."

Bess felt her heart ache a little as she saw the tired pain in his eyes. She sighed, and then fixed her cheeriest smile on her pretty face.

"Well, sir, I'll get you a big mug of ale and some of our fantastic lamb stew." He grinned back briefly in appreciation, and watched her dance round tables and people to the kitchen. Across the room, behind the bar, Tim glared at him. He'd seen Bess linger, speaking to the man for a little too long. Jealousy at her sweet smile to the stranger burned through him. Why not he? Why was he not good enough? What did this disheveled stranger have to offer that he did not?

Bess was quick to return with his food. A practical bucked of steaming stew that smelt as if it were made in the kitchen of heaven itself to him, who was ravenous. A mug of frothy beer, and a basket of hot bread with it. He fell on it as if half starved, and she watched him eat for a while. She wondered if she'd feel more revolted at the food dripping down his chin if she didn't love him. He said nothing to her, and she again left, and brought with her water this time. It wasn't long until her was scraping the last drops of strew from her bowl with his last mouthful of bread. He finished the smokey bear, coughed, then started on the water. Taking gulps, though he knew he shouldn't. He was just so parched.

"Is that better, William?" She asked, when he finally sat back in his chair, finished.

"So much so, my darling. Thank you." He said, then yawned, and rubbed one eye. She wondered how such an man could look such a child.

"Would you like boarding, for the night?" She asked, and he nodded, and stood. She called to her father that she was showing a customer to his room, and told one of the maids, Mary, to see to the last patrons of the evening who had begun singing, very red in the face. She finally grabbed a lit candle, and motioned for William to follow.

William followed her up the narrow, steep stairs, and she lead him to the narrow corridor where the small, clean rooms were. She blushed a little, when she realised that out of the three available rooms, she chose the one next door to her own. Her own door was marked with a plaque that read "private" in old white paint. She saw him smile at the door,

"Yours?" He asked, a little bit of a tease in his voice. She smiled at him, too embarrassed at his noticing to say anything, and unlocked the room. The candle light threw strange shadows over the walls, and she set to work lighting the other candles gathered around the room, then the small torches on the walls. Soon the room was bright and cozy. Bess didn't know how to start talking to him, so she went through the motions as if he were any other customer. She poked the embers of the dying fire back into life, and checked that the pitcher of water on the vanity was full.

She had begun turning down the bed sheets when he grabbed her hand, and turned her to face him.

"Bess, I missed you." He said, drinking in the details of her sweet face.

"I missed you too." She said, any previous awkwardness forgotten when she found the tenderness in his eyes. It was all that needed saying, and they were soon locked in a passionate embrace, their kisses were feverish and desperate, and she delighted in feeling of his body against hers again. He was skinnier than their time before, but the warmth radiated off him still. He found himself drawing more life from the feel of her than he had from that rich dinner.

It was she that pulled back, and said,

"William, you're tired, and ill. There will be time for this another night." He sighed, and agreed, stepping away from her, he began to undress.

She opened her mouth to protest, but was suddenly entranced into silence when he pulled his undershirt up over his head. He had his back to her, and she wondered if it were entirely normal to be so enraptured with something so unprovocative. Yet she couldn't help but imagine running her hands over the smooth flesh. The shape of his shoulders was unfamiliar, strong in a way she hadn't seen before. She felt ashamed of the lust, so ashamed, she almost whispered a begging prayer of forgiveness. But then, she found herself distracted from any sort of religious thoughts when he turned to face her.

She'd never seen a man undressed before, and wasn't sure what she'd been expecting. Since his recent time gone without eating, his ribs were visible, yet it seemed only to pull his skin tighter over his toned stomach. Bess felt her breath catch as her gaze found the waistband of his trousers, which hung low below his hips. She couldn't help but wish he'd remove those too, feeling a warmth begin to spread from her lower abdomen to the very tips of her fingers. She glanced back up to his face, and blushed crimson when she realised she'd been caught looking.

"I'm sorry." She muttered, dropping her gaze to the ground and blinking rapidly, trying to forget what she'd seen.

He stepped closer, however, making it difficult to shake the image.

"You haven't seen before, have you?" He asked, quietly. She shook her head, too mortified to look at him. "Would you like to? See everything, I mean." This shocked her so much she looked back up at him, wide eyed.

"You mean..." She gestured awkwardly at his crotch, and he laughed.

"Yes, if you like. I feel you're the curious sort."

"Well, I'm not sure if it'd be proper..." Again, he chuckled at her, and cupped her chin in his hand, turning her face up to him, and pressing his lips to hers. It fed the fire that burned across her skin, and when his lips trailed from hers, down her slim neck, she let out a moan that she barely recognized as her own. William pulled back at this sound, and she almost wanted to voice her disappointment.

"Not proper?" He purred, his voice thick with lust, and she couldn't help but smile.

"Yes, then. Yes I'd like to see."

He pecked her on the lips swiftly, then stepped back, and she looked away as he undressed himself. It seemed something too vulnerable to watch, almost indecent in it's sudden and unarmed exposure.

"Bess." He called her attention back, and she glanced up, turned scarlet, and looked away again. It took her a moment to pull herself together, and look back up at him.

"Oh." She couldn't help but whisper, fascinated all of a sudden. A flush rose in her cheeks and soon she had to look away again, telling him she'd seen enough, and thanking him for it. He laughed a little at her embarrassment, but noted that their goodnight kiss held an element of desire that the others had only hinted at. He got into bed as she watched from the doorway,

"I'm next door... If you need me." She said, smiling, and closing the door behind her.


End file.
